


Serving His Country

by eledhwenlin



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-21
Updated: 2009-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-03 11:57:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eledhwenlin/pseuds/eledhwenlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's serving his country to the best of his abilities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serving His Country

Renfield was 13, when his life started to change. At first, he didn't think much about it, didn't think himself to be special. But then his talents became more pronounced, much in the same way as his voice became first high and then deep, the same way his entire body changed.

Later he found out that many, if not most, experienced the onset of their powers during puberty. Just as it was transforming children to adults, it transformed normal people into something else. He'd never been able to come up for a good name to describe it: For very long he'd thought of it as a disease, marking him and separating him from anyone else.

This thing he could do, it was both scary and exhilarating because it was quite apparent that he was the only one capable of it. He felt special for a while, until he realised that nothing had changed. Indeed, things had gotten worse.

Everybody thought him weird, mocked him and no one at all respected him. He had been an outsider before and found that he was one still. So he learned to hide his talents, to blend in and not draw any unnecessary attraction to himself.

He didn't use his powers until he entered Depot and found that the RCMP did approve of his talents. It made him feel proud and appreciated, so he put his talents to the best use of all.

In Chicago there was much need for his special talent and Renfield hadn't been surprised to be posted here. So he served his country in ways he could do best.

And now was a time when he was especially needed. Last night there had been a reception for the Bulgarian Association of Violinists. Educated men, with the best of manners - until there had been a fight over the finer points of Mozart's violin concertos which had quickly deteriorated into a food fight. Needless to say, the ballroom used for the reception looked like a battlefield.

Renfield clutched his broom close to his chest, his rubber gloves slightly squeaking. The decorations had been ripped off the walls, the buffet and refreshments were scattered on the tables and the floor and - Renfield gasped loudly - a ball of rice had just missed the Queen's portrait.

Determined to do Her Highness justice and put the room back into a state worthy of her portrait, he closed the door behind him and started working. He picked up the garbage, cleaned the walls, washed the dishes, vacuumed the expensive rugs, rearranged the furniture and very carefully set Her portrait straight.

It was a flurry of motion, and he felt the power cursing through his veins. This was what he could do best, faster and more thoroughly than anyone else, and this was what he lived for.

Five minutes later the room was clean and no one would have thought it possible for it to be the site of such mayhem. Satisfied Renfield disposed of the garbage bags. The world might think him strange, but he still was SuperCleaningMountie!


End file.
